


you know, I dreamed about you

by liesmyth



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Prince's Gambit, Sexual Fantasy, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:49:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26304433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmyth/pseuds/liesmyth
Summary: Three days out of Nesson-Eloy, Damen wakes up to Laurent touching himself in the tent.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 158
Collections: Remix Revival 2020





	you know, I dreamed about you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thatgothlibrarian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatgothlibrarian/gifts).
  * Inspired by [white noise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17561621) by [thatgothlibrarian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatgothlibrarian/pseuds/thatgothlibrarian). 



Three days out of Nesson-Eloy, Damen woke up in the sumptuous dimness of Laurent’s tent. He had a crick in his neck and he was thirsty, but the water pitcher was on the other side of the tent and he wasn’t sure it was worth leaving his comfortable cocoon just for it. Damen rolled his shoulders, and caught a glimpse of movement in the dark.

He stared at Laurent, lying in his bedding. Laurent’s golden hair was pale and bright in the light of the dying flames of the brazier, and Laurent’s dark blue bedding enveloped him to the chin as if he needed to protect himself from the summer air. And, under his covers, his hand was moving.

Laurent’s soft bedding rose and fell rhythmically and Damen licked his dry lips as he realised what was happening. Laurent was pleasuring himself, lying just feet away from him.

His eyes trailed greedily over the shape of Laurent’s body in the dark. He drank in the movement of Laurent’s hand and the way Laurent arched into it, tilting to the side, keeping his shoulders back as he shifted his hips. Laurent’s whole body swayed in time with those quick little thrusts, and Damen found it marvellous that someone as restrained as Laurent could give himself so wholly to physical pleasure. He thought of the way Laurent rode his mare, unbridled and happy as if the simple feeling of breeze on his face and the open air around him were incommensurable thrills. The way he tilted his face as he threw his head back when the sun kissed his cheeks, narrowing his eyes to the light so that his long lashes painted soft shades over his cheekbones.

It was for the best that he couldn’t see Laurent’s face now. Damen’s thoughts went to Laurent as he had been the other day in the inn, playing pet by firelight, his sapphire eyes glistening just like the gem at his ear. The way pressed himself to Damen’s body, rubbed against him on the balcony. Laurent must have known what he was doing to him then; Damen had woken up hard and Laurent’s lithe body tucked against him had made it worse. He’d held his breath the whole time, afraid it would anger Laurent if his body betrayed itself. Afraid Laurent would tease him for it, play one of his games. More than anything he’d been afraid Laurent would notice and smile to himself in that way he had, quick and brilliant, and then Damen would be lost.

Laurent was very good at not making any noise, Damen learned. He watched the line of Laurent’s back and the way he tossed his bright hair back over his nape, but Laurent’s breath hardly changed. It made him wonder how many times Laurent had done this before tonight, Damen asleep on the other side of the tent, never noticing a thing. He’d seen Laurent naked once before, in the baths in Arles, and now he pictured all that pink skin on display, Laurent’s pretty cock hard and wet between his fingers.

And then his imagination got filthy. He thought about how wet Laurent must get when he was aroused, leaking into the bedding, and then he wondered if it would be his duty to clean it tomorrow. It was a demeaning, obscene little fantasy – Laurent had attendants who polished his boots and handwashed his bedding, and Damen was no menial servant but now, in the freedom of the darkness, he caught himself shifting into his pallet as his mind conjured pictures of himself washing Laurent’s come off his sheets.

Just the thought of finding visible traces of Laurent’s arousal in the light of the day was making him hard – the physical proof that Laurent, too, was a young man of flesh and blood and desires, and Damen had to stifle his knuckles in his mouth so he wouldn’t give himself away. He bit down on the flesh of his fingers, aching to touch himself. He shouldn’t. He never learned to keep quiet in bed, the way that seemed to come so effortlessly to Laurent, and it was one thing to listen to Laurent pleasure himself and another thing entirely to get himself off to it, like a Veretian voyeur watching a pet display.

As soon as he’d thought that, the image came again in his mind of Laurent dressed as a pet. He pictured the two of them in the inn in Nesson, sitting by the fire, and Laurent would go to his knees and wrap his lips around Damen’s cock, that sharp mouth filled to burst. Or he would straddle Damen’s thighs and sneak his hand down between their bodies, get him off like that in front of the innkeeper and all the merchants who’d come to gawk at the pretty pet. Or… He caught himself, willing his imagination to stop. He was making it all worse; his balls felt heavy and full, and when he turned around to lie on his front his cock rubbed against the pallet, and Damen groaned.

The noise felt impossibly loud in the enclosed quiet of the tent. Damen’s next breath caught in his throat. He kept himself very still, exhaling slowly with his eyes closed, cheek pressed against the covers of the pallet. He tried to focus on the even rhythm of Laurent’s breathing, in and out, trying to get himself under control.

Then Laurent’s breath hitched and he let out a small little sigh, and Damen froze. _Had he just_ – was that _Laurent_ – He couldn’t help himself. His eyes opened.

Laurent was sitting up in his bedding, his lower body covered by midnight blue blankets, his head thrown back, eyes opened.

And he was watching Damen.

“I hope you enjoyed that,” he said, insouciant.

Damen froze, face heating. Laurent’s cheeks seemed pinker than usual, but it was hard to tell in the shadows, and there was no hint of embarrassment in his voice.

“I’m going back to sleep.” He let himself fall down to the bedding and turned his back on Damen again, a dismissal. “Sweet dreams.”

Damen’s cheeks were hot, his body still frozen. It was too late to close his eyes and pretend he’d been asleep nearly the whole time, but he tried very hard to do just that, lying on his side and ignoring the way his cock jutted out awkwardly under his bedclothes. He shifted in place, and tried to fall asleep to the peaceful rhythm of Laurent’s breathing.

In the light of the day, they didn’t talk about it.


End file.
